


Constellations

by Kibs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gay Keith (Voltron), Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Keith (Voltron), POV Shiro (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post Season 8, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Sad Keith (Voltron), Sad Shiro (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), season 8 was trash and Im here to fix it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kibs/pseuds/Kibs
Summary: Two years have passed since the Paladins' Lions have gone, and the team must come together again as a strange force beckons for them to travel deeper into space than they have gone before.Keith and Shiro are brought together again, and must learn to face new challenges, and each other.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura/Lance (Voltron), Curtis/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

_-Shiro-_

He knew he made a mistake.

He’d known for almost two years, when it started as just uncertainty masked as excitement. His doubt pushed down by the fear of losing someone else. He’d choked himself silent. Kept his palms firmly over those emotions, suffocating them from speaking. He’d fought demons before, he knew how they worked, what they wanted, and how they desired to manifest. 

But if he never said it, it wasn’t real. His trepidation, then eventually guilt, would never grow into something more harmful. The poor sleep, especially recently, waking up and looking at the stars, was something he could live with.

The rain pricked against the window framing their bed, and he was thankful for the background noise. It steadied his mind just enough to hold himself back. He imagined the fresh smell of the rain, breaking through the layers of atmosphere to their thirsty Earth. As thunder rumbled, he opened his eyes. 

Shiro faced dark-skinned shoulder blades framed by the thin sheet. He took a deep breath and held it, swallowed the doubt, and let out a quiet sigh.

Still loud enough to wake Curtis.

He rolled over, lanky arms outstretched in search. Shiro let his husband catch him, and waited for his eyes to open. When they did, he was smiling. “Mmm. Good morning.”

“Morning,” Shiro replied, his voice dry.

Lightning struck, and he felt like crying.

* * *

_-Keith-_

It was raining, and when the dry dust finally began to soak up the storm, the air filled with Keith’s favorite smell. Even on that distant planet, it was the same.

He inhaled hard, clearing his nose with the sharp scent of ozone, and he was back on Earth. Keith could see his home perfectly. That run-down cabin in the desert, soaking up the rain almost as efficiently as the sands. The sands here were lavender, maybe a shade darker than his mother’s skin, but the rest of the Galra matched perfectly. 

He rolled his shoulders and set off back down the violet hill to camp. Storms like this one had decimated the villages on that planet, ever since the Galra had occupied it for mining and destroyed its natural infrastructure. His team had gone right to work digging gutters in the soil, and framing their new village to withstand the floods.

The aliens there were hard to describe, but their eyes bothered Keith. The lamb-ish people were speaking to his mother in a foreign language that was both beautiful, and frustrating. Keith was trying to learn it during their stay, but it had four alphabets and only two were written, which made books hard to study from.

His mother, and the tall village leader welcomed Keith into their conversation, speaking noticeably slower so Keith could attempt and follow. He caught the emotion of the talk, optimistic, but none of the actual words. He quickly excused himself and headed towards his ship.

Once inside, the rain stopped holding back, and picked up and smattered against the metal roofs incessantly. Keith found a seat by the window and gazed out into the dark stormclouds that were blending in with the distant, foggy horizon. The constellations were unfamiliar, but each planet had a different name for them, so Keith had begun naming them himself. Some were creative, and he was proud of, like the _White Metal Sword_ and _Titan_ , but there were others that had stuck persistently, like the _Tiger_ and the _Noble Firefighter_ (his mother’s suggestion). He’d felt oddly drawn to them in the past few weeks, the desire to fly deeper into space, away from Earth.

It had been two years, why did he still feel like running? 

His mother, Krolia, joined him inside, her hair dripping with the storm. “Shallon-bh _akt_ ,” she greeted, ending on the high click that Keith just couldn’t seem to make. She smiled at his unamused frown. “Sorry. I think it’s my extra teeth that help the tone. They may look like fawns, but they have quite the jaws.” She sat down beside him, radiating cold that was somehow refreshing against the skin of his arm. “You don’t like this planet, do you?”

“The planet is fine, I’d just like to move on.”

She leaned back, stretching her hands in front of herself. “You know, Keith, it’s been a while since you’ve been home. I think it’s time we pay a visit to Earth.”

His ears perked at her suggestion, no denying the brief, fleeting surge of eagerness, but he quickly shook his head. “I didn’t mean move on back to _Earth_. No. There’s still so much to do out here.”

She stood, and a few cold drops hit the metal floor, so loudly. “There always will be, Keith. But the damage has stopped, and planets are beginning to heal now. A lot of growth can happen in two years, if you look around.”

He was surprised at the passage of time. Ever since the space whale, his perception seemed off. He massaged his neck and shut his eyes. The prospect of returning to his home planet seemed nice at the moment, but a hot shadow was ruining the thought. “Mom, no.”

She was quiet for a while, but he knew she wasn’t done, and waited until, “Earth is a big place, Keith.”

He prickled. “And so is the universe, and there are dozens of planets who are still suffering because of what the Galra did!” He stood and turned away from her. “And you want to just turn around, after how far away we’ve made it!” 

When he spun and faced her, he was silence by her unexpectedly sad expression. She shut her eyes and relaxed into a smile.

“Mom?”

“I never really said goodbye to your Father, did you know that?” her soft eyes were distant. “I’d always believed that I would come back to him after my mission, but time moved so fast...It was a naïve thought.”

Keith sat back down. “You never said goodbye?”

“No.”

Keith felt a frustrating sadness. “And you regret it?”

She was quiet for a moment. “I’ve tried to speak to him, out here. Yet, it doesn’t feel right. I think I’m too far for him to hear me. I owe him a real talk.”

Keith still didn’t want to go back. But he couldn’t refuse a story like that.

They hugged, and she put on her hood and went back outside to check on the village. Keith settled back into his spot and let out a hot breath. The rain had calmed a bit, exposing a swatch of whirling black and red, and he knew that deep beyond that collection of stars and planets hung his home, Earth.

His home.

And Shiro.

And he felt like crying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support! Things will be moving faster once pleasantries are out of the way <3  
> Also I am guessing characters' ages a bit, since they are never explicitly stated, and space does weird things to time.   
> Enjoy!

Shiro sighed, letting out a warm breath of air as he stared up into the colorful sky. He used to be able to name all of those stars, but now he had too many in his head, and he found himself getting them confused with the constellations of distant galaxies. He tried to understand that it was normal, but he still felt like it meant he was getting older, and he’d finally reached his limit of how much knowledge he could store in his head. Once the Garrison’s flight prodigy, and now he hadn’t been off the ground in over a year. Everyone thought it must have been so peaceful for him, but Shiro spent most nights like that, staring into the whirling colors and wondering what to do next. 

He frowned up at the stars, trying to see past the layers, deeper. His neck ached, but he couldn’t look away. Were they moving? A comet? Something bright was coming his way, but its limbs stretched more than star streams, like it were running. He recognized the shape it took quickly. He’d gotten used to seeing the oddly shaped spacecrafts, with four legs and a whipping tail.

_Shiro_

He spun to see her, who had spoken into his ear, and found himself reeling in his bedroom instead, before dropping clumsily to the floor. He was halfway to the windows, trailing his sheet behind him.

“Shiro?” Curtis called drowsily, from his nest of blankets.

Shiro picked himself up slowly and wiped an arm over his face to dry the sweat. He was soaked through, but felt chilled. “I’m fine, sorry, go back to bed.”

Curtis lowered himself back down into the pillows, grumbling softly, but it was two in the morning and he had only half woken-up.

Instead of going back to bed, Shiro crept into the kitchen and brewed some green tea. His doctor recommended he stop drinking coffee, just one more thing to add to his anxiety. Once he had the mug filled, he held in his left hand, letting the cup warm and seep into his skin. Even it were a little hot, it grounded him. His biomech arm could feel sensation too but...it wasn’t the same. It felt delayed somehow.

Even as Shiro tried to distract himself, the dream hadn’t left him at all.

It felt fresh and detailed, and he could relive it clearly. And her voice had left a white-hot imprint. He could have easily pulled it from memories to fill the dialogue in his dreams, but it sounded different somehow, like he’d never heard that tone.

Like she had just spoken to him from across the stars.

He massaged his temples, blinking hard through the headache. It was a guilty dream, that’s all. He was familiar with those. And he needed to accept it had happened, that he was alive and she wasn’t, and then let it go.

Exhale it out. Accept it, and let it go.

He hadn’t been able to yet, but he’d started lying to his therapist so she’d leave him alone. 

Shiro got out his datapad and examined his schedule for the next day. A lecture to the huge class of first-years in the morning, before a presentation with the science department. He smiled. It would be good to see what Pidge and her unlimited budget were up to.

Then hours of free time, followed by a visit with his doctor.

That always made him nervous, even though nothing had come up yet. Rigorous medical exams had been such a big part of his life before Kerberos, it felt more abnormal for _nothing_ to be wrong. Shiro guessed that the Galra scientists and magicians, had edited out his faulty DNA. Clones were not good if their muscles were wasting away... 

Then his tablet pinged with a message alert, and he smiled in surprise.

_‘Hey guys, Hunk here! It’s been a while, (amazing how times flies when you’re not fighting for your life on an alien planet)._

_The restaurant has been doing great, and I’ve got a wild six-course meal I’m planning tomorrow night. It’s VIP, very exclusive. You are on the top of the list. I know, don’t thank me too much. Let me know if you can come and I’ll set a table up!’_

Shiro didn’t need to think about it for long. His evening was free. Maybe he’d even skip the doctor’s appointment so he could walk through the Colony slowly.

He might as well have been retired, at twenty-nine.

 _‘Also, Husbands and SOs are invited!’_ Hunk added, and Shiro was reminded he was the only married one. Though, Hunk had settled in with Shay, who had decided to move permanently to Earth after the war, and they certainly acted like they were already married.

And not a tik later, _‘I suppose I can clear my busy schedule,’_ Pidge replied.

Shiro looked outside. No sun yet, not even the feint light of dawn on that post-war zone desert. All was calm and dark. 

So all three of them couldn’t sleep. Maybe there was still something to the Paladin connection after all...

Were the others awake too? Had it been his nightmare that woke them? Was Lance awake? ...Keith? Who knew if it were day or night where Keith was. Maybe his new planet had three suns and was never dark, who knew. No one, but Shiro wished he did. New planets were still so fascinating, despite all of the ones that had hurt them.

Keith had gotten back into a spaceship so fast, right after Shiro and Curtis’ wedding actually, and no communication had been sent to Earth since. Well, not by Keith. A few from his mother, Krolia, updating the Garrison on the politics of deep space, until they had gone too far and messages lagged by months.

Wherever they were, it felt painfully far.

* * *

Shiro arrive at the Garrison early, prepping his presentation for the first-years. It was routine for Shiro, but new for all the kids, so Shiro did his best to keep his energy and enthusiasm up. As the groups arrived by bus, he greeted them as they came through the doors of the huge auditorium, and still blushed at their wild reactions to meeting him so quickly. The youngest were maybe twelve, after all. Even the ones that tried to remain professional shook when Shiro pat their shoulders. Busses and busses arrived, delivering future soldiers and pilots and scientists to the first day of their training.

They came from all over the planet, some tragically torn from their families after the war and seeking direction in their suddenly confusing life, and others simply inspired by what they had seen from afar, safe. The war had been good for Garrison recruitment. No need to visit orphanages anymore, they came all by themselves. But sometimes the best pilots were ones that had to be convinced of their skill. Shiro wondered what talent they were ignoring now that the application process was so competitive. 

Once filled in, Shiro began his speech. “Every year there are more of you. And looking out at this full auditorium, I feel reassured and hopeful that our great planet will be in capable hands for future generations...”

Afterwards, Shiro posed for photos with the new class, lingering, trying to gauge the new students. But there were so many now, and Shiro was ashamed to admit they blurred together.

“General Shirogane,” a Garrison secretary pried for his attention between photos with two groups of excited students. “The science division’s presentation will begin soon,” she reminded him.

“Ah, right,” he said, rushing the last group of kids to his side. “Be right there, you can start without me.”

After the auditorium cleared, Shiro hurried downstairs to the science division’s showroom. The doors opened and he was met with a row of backs, as the room was packed beyond capacity. Which was never good, since Pidge liked to set things on fire.

“So, what is the next step, knowing this?” Pidge said, her void amplified by a microphone.

Shiro tried to discreetly move closer to see, but once people noticed him, they made an easy path for him to get to the front row. Embarrassed, he hurried to take his seat.

Surprisingly, Pidge had no pyrotechnics. She stood on an empty stage, with a holo-screen projected behind her, showing the nearest two galaxies in relation to the Milky Way.

“If we had this amplifier, say, for the Kerberos mission, we would have realized it went awry weeks earlier. Potentially even received real-time information. Instead, we had a year go by without any military preparation, and when the Galra arrived. Well, we all know how that went down.”

“Doctor Holt,” a man said, rising from his seat. “We appreciate the sentiment, but we have been trying to improve our communication capacity since the inception of deep space travel. Are you implying you have solved this issue in just a few years of leading the department?”

“I apologize for the implication, I thought it was obvious,” she countered, her eyes hidden behind a sheen in her glasses.

Shiro smiled as the murmurs traveled through the crowd.

“My team and I have reached a point where we’re confident enough to implement it into the next generation of deep-space ships. Both Triangulum and Andromeda were easy, and the lag is less than five seconds. I’ve given prototypes to some of our Balmeran allies, who have moved further already.”

“And how does that compare? The Garrison is very capable of moving past Andromeda, Doctor Holt.”

“Well, let’s ask them,” she said, and a moment later the screen showed a Balmeran pilot.

“Hello, Pidge,” they greeted. It was Shay’s brother, Rax. They had left with a fleet of others of their kind to return to their original Balmera a few months ago. Their ships were significantly slower than Garrison crafts, but Shiro guessed they would be near Kerberos by then. Pidge had planned her presentation well.

“So...how’s space?” Pidge asked.

A few moments later, Rax nodded. “Space? Uhh, more peaceful, of course. We remain on high guard, but no one has attacked us.”

“Great. Let us know if anyone does!” They both waved, and Pidge dismissed the transmission. The crowd was silent as she faced them. “Any more questions?”

The only question that came up was how much money her team needed, Shiro gave his approval along with everyone else. With Pidge overwhelmed by higher-ups, Shiro decided to let her be, and snuck out much more easily than he’d entered.

Shiro meandered back to his office and spent the next few hours replying to emails and giving his signature like autographs. Why did they even need his approval for any of this, he wondered. What were his credentials? After the war, after piloting Atlas, he had easily been placed in a leadership role. No interview, no fuss. And he’d been sending emails ever since.

Was he more of a figurehead than anything? Speeches and photos and signatures. No more piloting positions for him.

He sighed and leaned away from his computer. Shiro chastised himself for his spiraling thoughts, it was self-destructive and made-up and a waste of time.

He glanced at the clock- 17:00. His appointment was in half an hour. Dinner started at the same time, but Shiro hadn’t told Hunk they would be late yet.

He’d rather not _be_ late.

He closed his computer and signed off for the day, locking all the classified information behind its layers of Pidge-approved firewall, and called Curtis. Curtis was done with work for the day too, and never said no to date night.


	3. Chapter 3

The fields shifted in the wind, and Lance watched the breeze approach from miles away. These grasses were an off-shade of green, something grown from an Altean—Earth hybrid, and they just _looked_ different in the best way. They flourished in the slightly acidic soil, and slowly were helping to convert it back to a more neutral chemical composition, all while releasing water and air into their recovering atmosphere. Lance could smell acrid metal, coming from the still-smoldering burnpiles of Galra wreckage, all way in the Kalahari. But the wind that reached him was refreshingly crisp.

He let it fill his lungs, and turned back to the house. It towered and sprawled over the farmland, built up easily since it was a simple frame. Then Lance added the flair, and tech to monitor the land’s progress.

He’d just stepped through his doorway when a small shape tackled him at his knees, swiftly followed by an even smaller one.

“Wow, miss me that much! I wasn’t even gone long!”

“Well, you know how they prefer to be woken up by you,” Allura said, her eyes beaming.

It was hard from Lance to look away from her, back to the small boy and girl demanding his attention. These were his twins, Melanie and Anton. They were almost three years old. Melanie hated sweets, and Anton was obsessed with the cows. They both loved to hear Lance’s stories about space, and his big lion ships.

The moment he looked back to Allura, the children went still. “This isn’t real, is it?” he asked softly.

Allura always knew, and always said the same thing. “I wish it were, Lance.”

And slowly, his perfect world disintegrated, starting at the edges of his vision. He kept his gaze firmly on Allura, for as long as he could. 

“I love you, Allura,” he told her. Again and again. He could never let her go without saying it, but she never had time-

“I love you too, Lance,” she said, her eyes welling with pain. “So, _so_ much-”

Lance rushed to take a step towards her, she was _different_ this time, and woke up.

And he was alone.

* * *

The wind knocked on his windows until Lance opened them, and leaned halfway outside of his third-story window to watch it roll in. It was the same as his dream, but it was the middle of the night instead of dawn. He followed the waves into the sky, and parted clouds above. Fissures opening to the stars, gaping open and pulling him upwards, like if he let go of his windowsill he would fall through them. He started to reach for them, then caught himself and made a fist.

But he didn’t fly anymore. He’d tried at first, to...find her...but he couldn’t feel Allura anywhere. Directionless, he finally came back to Earth and remained grounded there since. But recently he’d found himself waking up, only to observe the night sky.

He stayed there, in a half-conscious daze until that massive star finally began lifting itself into the horizon. It was still strange for him to watch the sunrise from that angle, planetside. He was used to watching them flow over planets from high above, or peek out from its orbit and light up the blackness of space.

His datapad gave its little ping, and Lance ignored it until another ping, and then another, finally drove his curiosity over the edge.

Hunk had invited everyone to his restaurant in the Colony. Pidge and Shiro already agreed, and the thought made him smile a little bit. It was a long drive though, and Lance was exhausted. The trip seemed out of reach. He meant to reply to let them know, but couldn’t think of the right phrasing, so he set down the tablet for later and started his daily chores.

He let the livestock out to graze, rotating to field 3 today, then field 4 in two weeks. Once they were settled, he addressed a busted pipe in the hydroponics that had started to pool outside the greenhouse. It was lush and full of more alien foliage and hybrids than Earth plants, which Pidge often brought him from her excursions into the settlement. _Careful not to let them become an invasive species_ , she always warned him. Nothing had grown legs yet, though plenty had grown thorns and needles. Lance didn’t like to trim them, curious how tall they would grow. Curious to see which ones glowed.

His farming staff were showing up by then, stopping in briefly to update him on the status of the nearby wash they had been repurposing for more soil deposits.

“I want it to be more alkaline,” Lance said, tapping the busy chemical printout spread over the table. He tapped the center, and it zoomed in. “There’s a specific plant I’m trying to grow, and we’re running out of samples. I think we need to go this way with the pH.”

“The only other thing that grows in soil like that is that weird green bean, it’ll be too low for flowers.”

“Give it a try,” Lance said with a weak smile. “Why not, you know?”

Shrugging, they adjusted the plans and took the ATV out of sight.

Lance massaged his head as they went off. He never imagined he’d turn into a chemist.

He took the other ATV and drove the opposite way into the orchards, where he wandered for the rest of the afternoon. A few of his Altean farmers were there as well, helping him edit the DNA of pears to make them more like an Altean fruit that tasted saccharine and dry, and Lance was eager to try the final product. The genotypes were mixing well with some plant samples he’d had his family bring from Cuba on their last trip. Lance tried not to see the painful irony in the mangoes.

Some of them were flowering now, Spring already. The third one since the Lions left.

Before he knew it, the sun was scattering beams through the branches of the orchard, and Lance returned to the farm to call the sheep back in from grazing. They were more stubborn than the cows, and it always took him an extra twenty minutes to gather up the stragglers.

He cornered the last ewe at the North edge of the field, holding a lasso ready. “I haven’t chased after a girl this hard in years,” he told her. “And never used knots. Don’t be the first.”

She paused chewing, before taking off with a shaky cry. He loosed the rope and caught her easily on the spiraling white horns. Genetics had made those sheep stubborn, but pretty easy to catch. He knotted her at the hoofs, then chucked her over the back of his ATV and took her back to the barn, where her babies and family watched from the doors curiously.

“You’re a terrible mom,” he chastised, before letting her free behind the fence. She gave a little kick with her stubby legs and trotted inside to the mewing of the others. 

Dark then, he boarded up the greenhouse and labs, though no one had ever bothered him so far from the Garrison and Settlement, and finally returned home.

A full circle, just like the sun. 

Lance crashed into bed, damp from a shower, and sent a prayer to god that he would be too tired to dream.


	4. Chapter 4

Iridescent eyes and a damp nose blocked his field of vision.

“Cosmo?” Keith said, sitting up to push the wolf off of him. He sat down on large haunches, waiting expectantly. The wolf had not stopped growing, and now stood even with Keith’s shoulders. If the beast had come from space, Keith wondered, maybe it needed a whole planet to accommodate it. Not that the tight spaces of the ship were difficult- he just teleported past them.

The wolf stood and faced the door, the tall mane of fur on its neck grazing the low ceiling of his bunk, before looking back at Keith.

“Okay, got it,” he said, sliding out of bed and grabbing his helmet. “Lead the way.”

Once they reached the bridge, Cosmo teleported inside, and Keith followed. He found the wolf sitting beside his mother and Kolivan- the Blade’s leader. They spoke quietly, and as Keith approached them he saw that many others were awake too, settling into their battle stations.

Krolia gestured for Keith to join them at the window. “Do you see them?” she asked.

Keith squinted his eyes, and felt his vision focus, and dart between the bits of asteroid between the two moons they faced. He blinked and looked harder. The hair on his neck raised. Trying to hide between the moons, were a dozen old Galra ships. Only the distinct, inorganic glint of metal separated them from space rock.

“It’s a good thing we turned around,” Kolivan said. “They thought we would keep going deeper, and they could take back this travel route between Cloud Nine and Six.”

“Have they seen us?” Keith asked, as he tried to recount their numbers.

“There’s a chance they think we’re deciding how to navigate the asteroids here, but they’re probably doing the same thing we are,” Krolia said.

“Krolia, Keith, get to your ships,” Kolivan said. “We’re making the first move.”

They hurried down the bridge together, landing in the small hanger bay. Their fighting forces had been significantly reduced as their focus shifted to restoration work, but the large ship held six Galran fighter ships. Smaller than the lions and harder to hit, but still not as fast a Red. Nothing was.

Keith started up to his ship, but his mother caught his shoulder. “They outnumber us, so we fight together.”

He nodded. “Wingspan maneuver?”

She nodded back, and slid into her ship in the blink of an eye.

* * *

Krolia banked left as Keith backed right, hoping to cut the group of ships off. A few ticks away, the enemy ships bloomed to life, and began to scatter. A few ships were caught off guard, and crashed into each other as they tried to flee in opposite directions. Keith and Krolia picked off the stragglers who had been too slow to pick a direction to flee.

“I counted three down,” Krolia said over the comm. “That leaves nine.”

Keith flexed his hands over the control wheel, and couldn’t help but smile. “Easy.”

An enemy ship began to tail him as Keith converged on a fleeing pair, but Krolia had been waiting behind an asteroid, and darted out from her cover and took it out easily. “Eight,” she said. Three more replaced it and took off after her, as she swooped into evasive dives. 

Keith scrunched his brow and closed the distance between the pair ahead of him. He shot off a few rounds, and they dodged shakily. Those ships probably hadn’t been maintained since the wars. Most of the ship builders had been hostages, after all.

Keith sped up and fired a few rounds at the edges of the trembling ship, which set it off easily, spinning like a firework, into the other. “Six,” Keith said, turning sharply to go back for his mother. He picked out her ship, dancing between the thick asteroid belt, peeling off her tails one by one.

“You’re counts off, Keith, it’s just these three left,” she chided, a bit breathlessly but he could tell she was smiling.

Keith took off after them, as she corralled them into a perfect target for him to shoot at. He fired once, and got the closest ship, and it careened off into a rock, splaying shrapnel into the others. Smoking and sparking, the other two began to slow. Easy picking.

“ _Behind you_!” Without looking back, Keith dove upwards, and his ship narrowly grazed an asteroid, but managed to avoid the flurry of laser rounds from a surprise ship. It was faster than the others, and quickly caught up to Keith as he flipped his ship around. It fired again, and Keith shuddered as his ship’s shields strained against the attack.

“Go, Keith! I’ll handle mine,” Krolia said, herding the other three back into the asteroids.

He skirted the edge of the belt, heading for the cover of one of the moons. Shots lit up the cockpit as they grazed above and below him, smattering into rocks and flaking off ice. The enemy ship was gaining on him, but that was fine with Keith.

At the moon, he dove precariously close to its surface, letting the weak tug of gravity ease him lower. Then he pulled up, and let the gravity well slingshot him back at his enemy. Keith shuddered, his body digging into the seat with the velocity, but managed to keep his eyes open to take aim.

The other ship was waiting, but hadn’t been expecting the speed, and fired off aimlessly at the blur that was Keith. Keith picked out the weak spot at the base of its wings and fired. The left came off, and the right held on my just a few wires. It kept firing, but with no way to steer, its attacks were predictable and harmless.

Keith caught his breath, relaxing more when he saw his mother’s ship rejoining him, a smatter of fiberglass dust in her wake.

* * *

The Blade of Marmora was established well before Krolia was born. They were what remained of the Galran resistance to Zarkon’s bloody war, though no original members remained to see the end of Zarkon. Even for Galran lifespans, theirs was a war that took many.

They had recovered the old Galran ship thanks to Keith’s discretion, and its furious pilot. He swayed on his knees, arms tightly bound behind his shoulder, one of them broken to increase the range of his bindings.

As the Blade gathered around him quietly, their hostage snarled and spat, trying feebly to catch his breath in punctured lungs.

“Tell us how many more of you there are,” Kolivon said. 

Their hostage shouted, maybe a laugh, “Hail Zarkon.”

“That’s not a number,” Kolivon said, and one of the Blades brought their firm fist down on the hostage’s back.

He reeled and fell onto his cheek, exhaling bile.

“Your forces are weak, and dwindling,” Krolia said. “Yours is a lost cause. Who is trying to rally you?”

“And what cause is _this_?” He managed, lifting his head. He locked eyes with Keith. “T-taking in half-breeds. Wiping the galaxy’s memory of our great leader? Purging our species.” He chuckled at the cold floor, and his raspy voice echoed. “I will soon join our great Zarkon in the One Opulent Kingdom, in his Throneroom, as do all those loyal. And you and your mixed kind will end in the _void_.” 

Keith sighed. He’d grown up with the ideas of Heaven and Hell, though he didn’t believe in either. An Opulent Kingdom and Void actually seemed more likely, after what he’d seen.

But it must have struck a nerve for his mother.

Krolia came forward and snatched the prisoner by his matted hair. “You lost, as did Zarkon. The Kingdom does not open its gates for the weak like you.” She smashed his face down with a sharp crack, then turned on her heel and walked to Kolivon’s shoulder. “The information he gives us wouldn’t even matter,” she spat.

He nodded. “Take this one to the holding cell.”

“Kolivon-”

“We do not torture, Krolia,” he said firmly. “Our goals have changed now.”

His mother’s bristled hair slowly lowered. “You’re right,” she said, freeing her arm from him, and leaving the bridge.

Keith went after her. “Mom!” he called, but she did not stop until she was well halfway to their bunks. “Are you okay?”

She leaned against the wall and sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry you saw that. I lost my control.”

Krolia had been with the Blade all her life, and even in the time on the space whale, there were things she had refrained from telling him. Things she had done that she ' _wasn’t proud of'_. Keith was surprised how easily he could imagine his mother doing those things, though.

“You did very well out there,” she said, breaking Keith from his thoughts. “I saw your trick with the moon’s gravity. And I wouldn’t have had the restraint to think of taking a prisoner.”

Keith shrugged. “I didn’t always.”

“It’s that mantra you say, ‘Patience yield focus’.” 

Keith stilled, a flurry of mixed emotions clouding his response. “Yeah,” he finally said, stiff.

Krolia smiled sadly, then lifted her finger. “ _Can’t never did anything_.”

Keith frowned at her attempted country accent. “What is that?”

“Your father’s,” she said. “I told myself that often after I left Earth...Why are you laughing?”

Keith steadied himself. “No, no, sorry, it’s...It’s an _old_ saying,” he explained, as politely as he could. She was right, he had said that. It was one of Keith's memories of him, hunched over the hoverbike, teaching Keith how to maintain in despite his childish frustration. He should have appreciated it more. 

She eyed him suspiciously. “Well. He did say he was old- fashion.”

Keith leaned against the opposite wall. On the space whale, it took a few months before Krolia spoke about the more humorous aspects of her relationship with his father. Theirs was such a tragic lovestory, he could tell it still pained his mother to talk about it. Less so now, but her eyes still glazed over with his memory. She admitted once that she hadn't spoken about him until she'd been reunited with Keith. No one could know, after all.

Keith wondered how long it would take for himself to stop thinking about certain people. “How long again were you on Earth?”

She shut her eyes. “Just over one Earth year. It felt so much shorter though.”

He nodded again, imaging all that must have happened in that time, including his birth.

“A lot can happen in a year,” Krolia added, smiling warmly at him as she did every now and then, taking in the sight of him. “I thought I knew how the rest of my life would be, but in just a few months everything changed. But I’m sure you understand how that must feel.”

Keith agreed, but probably not in the same way his mother meant. Slowly, they parted ways to catch up on the sleep they had been interrupted from.

In his bunk, with no windows in that small room to orient himself, Keith stared at the ceiling. No constellations to name, though they were becoming more familiar as they retraced their winding path back to Earth.

Krolia was right. Sometimes short amounts of time really did change things.

In a few months after the Lions had left, Shiro was engaged.

He shut his eyes.

* * *

‘So, humanitarian work?’ Shiro clarified, examining Keith through the wisping steam of their tea and coffee. It created a gossamer barrier between the two, though their knees were touching under the tiny table.

Keith nodded. ‘I don’t think we can call it that though, since I’ll be the only human. Half-human.’

Shiro’s organic hand remained wrapped around the hot mug. He hadn’t yet taken a sip of his matcha. ‘It sounds great, Keith. But how long will you be gone?’

Keith shrugged. ‘We don’t know yet, but it’ll be a while,’ Keith said slowly.

The sadness hadn’t reached him yet. There was a wistful hope that had urged Keith to invite Shiro to that new coffee bar in the Colony, just the two of them. Shiro missed space, Keith knew it. Keith missed being among the stars too, but the idea of him joining the Blade of Marmora alone was less exciting. To Keith, there was a pretty clear solution.

But it had been more and more difficult to get Shiro alone. He was so busy with the Garrison lately. Keith was worried they wanted to promote Shiro to a position he could never leave Earth from.

This was a way out. A way forward, for the both of them.

‘We’ll see planets that we haven’t touched yet,’ Keith continued. ‘Even that the Galra never touched. That’s what the Garrison was about, originally. For me, at least.’

‘I know,’ Shiro said, a weak smile tugging at his lips. ‘It was the same for me. But that feels so long ago, doesn’t it? Planning expeditions to deep space just to _learn_.’ He spun the mug around a little, fresh green pluming up from the bottom of his mug. ‘Kerberos.’

The mission that changed everything.

Keith watched Shiro’s face as it went through the flickers of guilt and longing. Maybe there was still a twinge of fear too, but it was muted now, hardly there. He’d seen worse than Kerberos since then.

‘Do you remember when Allura saved the Balmera?’ Keith asked, hoping to reel him back from that precipice.

Shiro lifted his gaze, then his eyes cleared with warmer thoughts. ‘I could never forget.’

Keith took a deep sip of the coffee. It was gritty, but the pieces crunched like chocolate. ‘I want to continue doing that,’ he said. ‘I want to bring planets back to life. She would have wanted that too.’

The next time Keith looked at Shiro, the older man was smiling. _God, it made Keith weak_. What had he said? Or had it been the way he’d said it? All that was left was to ask. _Do you want to help me do that?_

‘Shiro!’ A familiar voice called from the doorway.

Shiro’s smile faded for an expression of surprise. ‘Curtis? What are you doing here?’

Keith twisted in the chair, bumping Shiro’s legs, and through them the table. Their drinks sloshed and spilled over the lip of the mugs.

A young, all too handsome Garrison Lieutenant made his way around the crowded tables to reach them. ‘I thought I saw you two. Hi Keith,’ he added briefly, before setting his gaze on Shiro. ‘Have you eaten yet?’

Shiro glanced at Keith. ‘Uhh, no, have you?’

Curtis shook his head. ‘But I was heading to Hunk’s- he and that Altean girl just opened their bar. Come with me?’

Keith dug his glare into the table and mopped up their drinks.

‘I-...sure. That sounds nice,’ Shiro stammered. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’ 

Keith snapped his gaze back to Shiro, and was startled to see Shiro was _blushing_. 

‘I have to go,’ Keith said, forcing himself out of the suddenly too-cramped chair. He spilled the drinks even more, and one mug rolled off the side of the table and broke all over the floor, scattering under adjacent tables to the surprised gasps of their neighbors. When did it become so crowded?

‘Sorry,’ Keith stammered, picking up what he could, then shouldering past the barista who was rushing over with a broom. He discarded the pieces in the trash and didn’t stop once to look back.

Keith followed the street, head down, back to his hoverbike parked on the mesa.

What had he been thinking? Asking Shiro to join him in space, at a coffee bar? It felt childish and ill-prepared now, though in the moment it had felt so right. Spontaneous.

Would a different place have even made a difference though? A fancy dinner wasn’t his style. Was it something Shiro even remotely _wanted_? If it had been a fraction of how much Keith did, Shiro wouldn’t have hesitated.

Keith paused at a corner and shook his hair out. ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he muttered, pushing his face into his hands. He sighed heavily, but when he looked back up he saw that he was alone. Shiro hadn't followed him. He was busy with Curtis.

But it still should have been busy, almost evening, yet there were no aliens or humans or anything alive. The shops were open, but empty.

‘That’s right,’ Keith remembered.

He’d kept his head down all the way back to his bike. He hadn’t noticed anyone else. Shiro was the last person he’d looked at, seen, that day.

It was a memory.

Keith grit his teeth and began walking again. Why was he reliving it now? It had been months since he’d dreamt of Shiro, and it always caught him off guard. It always hurt as bad as the first time. Knowing he was losing Shiro, again, to someone else.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Allura said.

Keith shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t change anything,’ Keith replied sharply. He felt breathless, like he’d been running. He wasn’t any closer to his bike.

He paused, frowning. What was...different? He spun, and faced Allura, who stood expectantly in the middle of the road. ‘You...you weren’t here for this,’ he said, slowly, as much for himself as for her.

She shook her head. ‘And I’m sorry to intrude. This is private.’

Keith felt a growing sense of urgency. ‘Why am I having this dream? You died, Allura...’

She opened her mouth, but there was only a ringing in Keith’s ears. ‘What?’ he asked, taking a step towards her.

_Keith!_

‘Allura, I can’t hear you!’ he shouted, but his words were muted too.

_Keith! Wake up!_

He snapped his eyes open, reaching for where Allura had been, but Krolia’s firm hands caught him instead. “Keith! _Wake up_.”

He blinked the rest of the dream away, but he felt exhausted. “W-what’s going on?” he asked groggily. His mother’s concerned expression helped him sober up. “What’s wrong?”

The ship heaved, and the warning siren blared.

“Get to your ship. We hit another Galra barricade. But they saw us first.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hunk’s restaurant was built into the newly-formed and thriving alien settlement a few kilometers away from the Garrison.

A massive landing platform and runway had been constructed, and ships of all kinds kept the air busy. The Garrison had started putting restrictions on them, but it was hard to control such a diverse group of travelers, especially with the language barriers. Earth wasn’t yet a tourist attraction, since it was so far from most other settlements, but it was certainly getting more popular by off-planeters.

Of course, for the original residents of Earth, the settlement was either something fantastic to visit, or some awful reminder of the Galra attacks.

One of Shiro’s first initiatives was to get his home planet to understand the difference between Zarkon’s Galra Empire, and alien refugees. 

Shiro parked the jeep and he and Curtis trekked down into the lively canyon. Paper string lights were a new addition to the streets, and cactus and yucca had started to grow again, gently tended to by the shopkeepers. Their colorations seemed strange though, a little more alien somehow, even though the soil shouldn't have been different. 

“It’s already changed so much from the last time we were here,” Curtis said, pausing to look over the railing and see deeper into the levels of the growing city. “It looks like they hit a river.”

Shiro joined him and squinted to see the flowing water below, lined again with halos of colorful paper. “It’s pretty amazing.”

“ _You’re_ pretty amazing,” Curtis said, eyes narrowed playfully.

Shiro looked away and laughed, and Curtis started down the main street. Shiro watched him go for a moment, focused, trying to remind himself of something, of his reasons he’d given almost two years ago, but couldn’t. Shiro's watch buzzed, and a quick glance let him know it was from his doctor, wondering why he was skipping yet another check-up. He closed the screen, and slowly picked himself up, wiping his guilt off on the railing, and followed.

It seemed like all roads had been built to intersect with Hunk’s restaurant. He was known for collecting off-planet recipes, so his cooking felt like home to many of Earth’s new residents, and even Shiro was pleasantly reminded of some adventurous meals they’d had at the Castle.

A sign outside signaled that it was closed for a special event, but a peddler was at the intersection selling some of Hunk’s famous bright-green melon buns, so people weren’t too disappointed. 

Curtis was eyeing them eagerly. “Shiro, aren’t you from Japan?” he asked.

“Ahh, my parents were. Technically I was born there, but we moved when I was a baby. I got too busy in school and didn’t get to visit,” he said. School? That was only maybe fifteen years ago for him now, but it felt like another lifetime. Another timeline, honestly. “They have melon buns there?”

Curtis nodded. “Hunk’s are pretty damn good, but I think half of the flavor is the atmosphere where you eat one.”

The main doors parted then, and a tall Altean woman waved them over when she caught their eyes. “Shiro, Curtis! You made it!”

Shiro smiled back. “Hi, Romelle.”

“Are you kidding? We wouldn’t miss it,” Curtis added as they hugged.

Romelle had been the first other Altean the Paladins met, but what should have been a fantastic event was instead a powerful precursor to a terrible revelation about Lotor. She looked not the least bit tied to such traumatic events, wearing a bright blue dress and pink apron. Shiro tried to focus on that, the present, instead of the confusing, mismatched memories that were violently demanding his attention. The first time he met her...it hadn’t really been him.

“Shiro?” Curtis asked, pausing at the doorway.

Shiro hadn’t moved yet. “Oh, sorry!” he said, hurrying to join him.

“You okay?” Curtis asked as they followed Romelle inside. “You got that distant...you know, the look.”

“I’m fine,” Shiro dismissed, “Just tired.” He hated it when Curtis mentioned _the look_. It’s true Shiro zoned out sometimes, but it didn’t need its own name.

Shiro didn’t have any time to ruminate though- the air drew his attention instantly. It smelled amazing, like he was wading through the first course already. Thick and heavy and full of buttery carbs, exactly what Shiro was craving. 

“Take a seat, I’ll get you drinks!” Romelle said eagerly, vanishing behind the long, sleek bar at the back of the dining room.

Another familiar figure was seated there, a tall frothy drink at their elbow, and a datapad reflecting in their glasses.

“Pidge!” Shiro called, somehow even happier to see now than had been that afternoon in the lab.

She spun in the barstool. “Hello, mister and mister Shirogane,” she greeted. On the datapad swirled constellations, and in the corner a bright, pulsing waveform.

“What’s-”

“Hey, it’s a party, no homework here,” Curtis said, gesturing to the datapad.

“Party, huh?” She said, bringing the tall glass to her lips and sipping through the foam. “Then you better get one of Romelle’s martinis.”

“That is _no_ t a martini,” Curtis said with a smile.

Pidge nodded back at the woman snapping two metal shakers together, frowning in focus, as she prepared the next round. “She could call this milk and I’d still order it.” Pidge leaned away from Curtis. “Shiro, come sit.”

He went to Curtis’ other side, and pointed to her datapad, now facedown and black. “What was that?”

Pidge sipped at her drink some more, then took a long swallow, pondering. “I’m not...sure. Yet. I’ll tell you soon.”

A frustratingly vague answer.

Romelle slammed down two more tall glasses and filled them dexterously with the bright green foam. As it settled, it condensed into liquid and changed to purple. She spun in a few ice cubes and topped the rim with salt dust. “Two more martinis for the happy couple!”

Shiro could smell the vapors from a foot away, but smiled encouragingly. “T-Thanks Romelle. When did you get into bartending?”

“Hunk needed someone, that’s when,” she said simply, then leaned back against the counter languidly. “Honestly it’s been forever since I tried a new hobby.”

Curtis sniffed his drink, then raised his eyebrows at Shiro before tipping the glass back against his lips. “Uh oh,” he said afterwards.

“Uh oh...as in, it’s bad?” Romelle asked, dejected. 

Curtis shook his head. “Uh oh, as in I may be ordering another one of these.”

Pidge nodded in approval. “See?”

As soon as Romelle fixed Cutis and Pidge a second round, this time colored orange to Romelle’s surprise, Hunk arrived from the kitchen with a massive tray in each hand. His biceps strained at the orange button-down.

“Friends, dinner is served,” he greeted simply. Shay followed behind him with two even larger trays, balanced evenly on her wide hands, and stacked tall with glasses and dishes.

The group of friends settled into a half-circle booth on the second story of the restaurant, which overlooked the main square of the Colony. Shiro could name most of the species of alien he saw, but he was surprised that more and more were unfamiliar to him. Just like the stars. The universe, their world even, was getting bigger while Shiro remained stagnant.

Hunk set out the first courses, the lacquered bowls snapping Shiro from his thoughts. It was definitely a vegetable, or fruit, riddled with symmetrical holes and steaming fragrantly. Shiro had barley finished, trying to savor it because god damn it was delicious, when an equally appetizing bowl of soup replaced the empty plate.

Dinner came in Japanese kaiseki style, which meant lots and _lots_ of courses. Mostly small plates of recipes inspired by his foreign visitors, but _so many_ of them that Shiro regretted eating lunch. They hardly had time for conversation, constantly being interrupted by new dishes and refills of Romelle’s martinis.

Hunk passed out a large bowl of pink rice to everyone as an intermission of sorts. “Sorry I haven’t sat down with you yet! Kitchen is crazy.”

“He decided to try all of his new recipes for one meal,” Shay explained. “And he’s a control freak.”

“Hey, hey,” Hunk interrupted. “Shay, that’s a dirty word. I just like to make sure things turn out how I envision them. Now.” He set his arm over her shoulders, stretching to do so as she was a foot taller. “Tell me everything.”

Curtis nodded, pointing to Pidge. “Okay. Pidge is sucking the Garrison’s funds dry with her research.”

“What I said was, my projects are doing amazing,” she added, arms crossed. “Just got a new grant for my long-distance communication project, even though its basically finished.”

“And Shiro and I are doing good. We made this exciting program for the Atlas, so it’s easier for anyone to pilot it. Still with a huge team, ya know, but a step in the right direction.”

Hunk nodded, glancing at Shiro. “Huh, I didn’t know that was possible.”

Shiro nodded back at him, taking a mouthful of rice to avoid explaining. The Atlas hadn’t been off the ground besides routine excursions. It hadn’t needed to be. They thought it had to have an Altean connection, which was why Shiro was its pilot in the first place, but experiments and trial runs were showing otherwise. It was progress, but Shiro couldn’t help but feel a little less important.

They went around for a while, grateful for a chance to let the food settle as they took turns reminiscing. Hunk was thriving, along with the rest of the colony. It was true more foreign visitors were making their way to Earth, but besides the colony and its branches of nearby settlements, the stigma of alien populations settling onto Earth was too strong for them to make many permeant homes. 

“Without the Garrison’s protection, I’m not sure what would happen,” Shay said. “Most of my family decided to return to the Balmera. Just one too many bad encounters.”

Hunk nodded sympathetically. “Humans are still racist to each other, I guess we’re just not ready.” He picked at his nails. “No, I just can’t find an excuse for it...” Thus began a short-lived but agreeable conversation about alien-human dynamics. The group of retired paladins all agreed though, so the debate never really became too exciting.

Curtis broke the ensuing silence with aloud sip of the tea. “What is this? I’ve never had this kind before,” he asked, holding up the clay mug.

Hunk smiled. “You can thank Lance for that. It’s an Altean leaf, kind of like oolong. It came with his last shipment of boxes- which, by the way we are having these amazing fruits for dessert. Lance sent us some of his last orchard harvest- it’s like, uh...mangos, kind of. But they’re way smaller.”

“Did Lance every respond to you?” Pidge asked, shifting the rice in her bowl, trying to find the easiest bite to take.

Hunk shook his head. “I know he’s busy, but I haven’t seen him in a while. He usually ships everything with the Coran and the rest of the Alteans when they visit for resupply.”

Shiro frowned guiltily. He hadn’t been reaching out either, not recently. After the Lions left, the paladins had taken shifts in checking in on him, but Lance quickly threw himself into the farmstead, and it was understandably harder to meet him for coffee. He still lived alone, though Altean refugees and farmhands were nearby.

“We owe him a visit,” Hunk finally said. The rest of them nodded, and the mood was a little sullen even as Romelle passed out orange, delicious-looking scoops of ice cream with little caps of mint leaves.

“Now, what’s all this!” Romelle said. “You three always make yourself sad when you hang out. You should be happy you had time to meet!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just not the same without the rest of the Paladins,” Hunk admitted. “I’m so glad you all came, just sometimes it makes it more obvious that there are some of us missing...some forever.”

Again there came silence, in which many of them took the chance to finish their martinis.

“I think I’ve been missing her a lot recently,” Pidge said. “I mean, sometimes I feel like she’s still here.”

Shiro looked up, over the rim of his half-empty glass. He didn’t feel like drinking anymore. It made it harder for him to sleep, but as he looked around the table, he guessed he wasn’t the only one struggling.

“Are you all getting enough rest?” He asked. “You all sound busy, so make sure you’re taking care of yourselves.”

“You’re one to ask, babe,” Curtis said, putting a hand to Shiro’s cheek. “What sleepwalking two nights in a row? I’m gonna have to put a bell on you.”

Shiro took his hand away, and gave a dry laugh. “That uh, won't be necessary, Curtis. Just been a weird few nights.” Shiro sighed. “A perk of getting old, maybe.”

Curtis’ hands found Shiro again, this time in his hair. “You could dye it,” Curtis said, twirling some of Shiro’s hair in his fingers. “You don’t have to feel self-conscious. You’re not too old yet, baby.”

Shiro frowned. He hadn’t been really bothered by his hair, until then. He slid Curtis’ drink out of his reach and smiled apologetically to his friends.

“Well I think it’s great,” Romelle jumped in, slapping the table with her hands. “White hair is a sign of purity in Altean culture. The royal family had that color, you know?”

“Ha,” Shiro said, and brought the glass to his mouth for one more sip. Curtis fell into his shoulder, murmuring into his ear. 

“Really!” Romelle said, standing up halfway in the booth. “There was a reason your hair turned white once Allura brought you back from the astral plane.”

“Heavy stuff,” Hunk said, leaned closer to Pidge. She nodded along, swaying a little from the drinks.

Curtis’ eyes were huge. “What was it like there?”

Shiro shook his head, more to prevent any thoughts from sticking than to gesture no. “I don’t remember much,” he lied.

Curtis sighed loudly, and leaned back in his chair, somehow having gotten ahold of his drink again, proceeding to spill it with the motion. “Babe you never tell me about Voltron stuff.”

“I do,” Shiro countered, already trying to think up examples. He told his husband what he could...but it was hard to explain to someone who wasn’t there, not that Curtis didn’t try to understand. “I don’t know if that even counts as-”

“You know what I mean,” he pouted, finishing is drink.

“Oookay, I think that’s a cue for water,” Hunk said, but Shay was already coming back with a pitcher.

* * *

It was dark outside, though the warm paper lanterns illuminated the streets from below. The group walked together down the main road, back up the easy incline until the Colony was a glowing fissure in the canyon behind them.

Hunk tossed Pidge into her car and buckled her up across the backseat. “No, no, I know,” he was saying as he tried to disengage from the conversation they’d been in. “It’s weird, but you’re smart and it’ll make more sense when you’re sober,” he said, before squishing her face in his hands and pushing his forehead against hers. “ _Tomorrow_ ,” he said firmly, then slid back and shut the door. The car took off on auto back to Garrison.

Hunk sighed, then laughed as he saw Shiro preforming a similar juggling act of getting Curtis buckled in the passenger seat.

“Curtis, stop moving,” Shiro snapped, grabbing both his husband’s wrists with his biomech hand and swiftly buckling him in.

“That’s n-not fair,” Curtis stammered, before crossing his arms and shutting his eyes, halfway to sleep.

“Oof. Soooo maybe I don’t let Romelle bartend next time,” Hunk said as Shiro rounded the jeep to the driver’s side. 

“No, he always gets...jealous when he can’t be part of the conversation,” Shiro said. “But I don’t know how to include him sometimes...” Shiro sighed. “It’s fine. Thanks for the dinner Hunk, it was great seeing you.” They hugged, and Hunk started back down the trail.

“Oh! Maybe make sure Pidge doesn’t fall asleep in her lab tonight,” Hunk added, turning around.

Shiro frowned. “O-Okay. Why?”

“You know how she gets obsessed,” Hunk said, but it wasn’t a humorous jab like usual. He seemed oddly serious. “This comm project she’s working on. I guess she picked up some strange signals with it, from pretty deep space. Got her all worked up, you know?”

Shiro nodded slowly his mind dancing back to the busy screen on her datapad at the restaurant. “Okay. I’ll check. Thanks Hunk.”

Hunk nodded, but hesitated. Finally he shoved his hands in his pockets and gave in. “Shiro. Allura is gone, right? Really gone?”

Shiro didn’t move. His throat went so dry he could hardly speak. “Yeah, Hunk. And it’s no one’s fault.”

Hunk nodded again, then looked up at the stars. “Yeah. Night, Shiro.”

Shiro waited until Hunk was gone, before also looking up at the sky. A few wispy clouds weaved between the constellations, bringing a chill to the air.

Curtis smacked his hand against the window and whined, “Babe. Come on.”

The drive back was slow, even though the open roads were empty, Shiro was more drunk than he should have been. Even if he’d been sober, his mind felt sluggish and confused. Curtis kept demanding his attention as he focused on the dim markers drilled into the rocks, leading them back to the towering complex.

“Curtis, stop, I’m driving,” he finally said.

Curtis withdrew his prying hands, and faced the window, dejected. He was oddly quiet for a while, then, “You still love me, right babe?”

Shiro’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He looked to his husband, whose reflection gazed back at him, bleary eyed, from the window he was curled up against. Shiro took his organic hand and brushed it over the back of his husband’s head. “Of course, Curtis,” he said.

In that single moment, Shiro may have been telling the truth. But by the time he guided Curtis through a shower and back to bed, that feeling was gone again.

Shiro grit his teeth and pushed his face into his organic hand. Why did he keep losing it? Why couldn’t it just stay? Curtis _loved_ Shiro. Why wasn’t that enough anymore? What was wrong with him?

Shiro left Curtis alone in bed and sat heavily below the windowsill, his biomech arm touching the base of the glass. He finally looked up at the sky, darkly still, and listed the constellations and stars and satellites as they roamed into the field. He considered renaming the ones he forgot, to make it easier on himself, but decided to leave them blank. He’d study again tomorrow. 


	6. Chapter 6

Keith’s head slammed against his chair as his ship banged into the crippled remains of an enemy fighter. He regained control and climbed out of the debris, blinking hard to clear his jarred vision. Krolia’s voice was coming through distorted over the comm, and he couldn’t tell if that was due to his aching head or interference.

Another ship came hurtling towards him and he dove into the offense, whipping around the enemy ship and releasing a flurry of shots. They weren’t well aimed, but there was enough firepower to riddle the cockpit with holes, and tear off the left wing. Keith pulled away sooner this time and avoided any more collisions with shrapnel.

His eyes darted above and to the sides, searching for his next target. A dark blur shot past him, glistening from the sunlight of the nearby star, followed by a familiar ship. His mother was doing just fine. But their companion, Xander, was hounded by the remaining foes.

Keith studied his radar for a moment, then took off to intercept an enemy that was banking hard to catch up with Xander. He shot out from behind the asteroid just as the enemy did, and they clipped each other, but where Keith recovered his bearings, the enemy did not, and kept spinning into space. Keith steadied himself, aimed, and fired more carefully. He got one shot in before his ship’s nose careened backward, tackled from below and the rest of his shots went off harmlessly into the distance. The ship’s floor beneath his feet was dented in, crunching his knees into his chest, and his craft blared a warning.

Keith angled towards the cover of asteroids and debris. If he didn’t get a better view and under some cover he’d be picked off. 

“Keith!” His mother called. “Are you all right?”

Shots on either side of him illuminated the cockpit. “For now,” he replied stiffly, focused on a patch of asteroids hovering gently in their orbit.

“Hang on, I’m-” Her voice cut out as Keith’s ship took fire from above, from a lurking enemy ship. Keith had long lost count of how many there were- their numbers kept changing as more woke from their sleep on the underbellies of asteroids.

He knew for sure there were the two following him, one from above and the other from behind. And his own ship was crying out in impending death.

He shut his eyes for a moment, reaching for focus. When he opened them, burning yellow, he fixed their sharpened gaze on the ship-sized asteroid he’d been aiming for. His radar verified that his pursuers were converging, hoping to drive him into the field and implode him against the belt.

_Fine. Their plan could work._

Keith secured his helmet one more time and loosed his seatbelt. He fired all remaining missiles at the asteroid, and white-hot fissures tore it down the middle, clawing all the way through its icy core. Just before impacting with the molten remains, Keith flipped his ship upside down and ejected himself from it.

He shut his eyes for a moment as the speed crushed his lungs, his suit peeling away from him, then he forced a breath down his throat and looked up. 

His own ship, one of the last of the Blade’s fighters, belly-flopped into the enemy above, and the rest of the asteroid came apart in a screaming explosion, spreading and catching the final ship in its comets. He felt a bitter satisfaction, which somehow remained as the comets began raining down beside him as well. They were massive, though they had seemed much less impressive from the safety and distance of his ship, and he could feel their heat eating away at his suit and the skin beneath. Despite the chaos, it was utterly silent.

_Burned alive in space_ , he mused.

He shut his eyes, hoping to sate the gnawing headache that competed with the pains of his burns, and an odd tightening in his chest. They were halfway back to Earth. It would take a week for his mother to send word of his death.

Shiro wouldn’t know for days. 

Before his thoughts could venture too dark, Krolia deflected the last comets, and his mother reached out through the black and took him into the safety of her ship. 

* * *

The salve was so cold it stung like fire, and he doubted that the medicine was actually helping heal his burns. Instead of voicing his protests, he grit his teeth and let Krolia lather the stuff over his neck and arm. Her grip was steel anyways, he wouldn’t have gotten free, so he choose to let it be his decision.

“This will trigger your healing response, that’s why it burns so much more,” she said, reading his still expression. “More pain for a shorter amount of time.”

When she finally released him, he stood, unable to remain still as the medicine worked. “How many ships did we lose? Just mine?”

“...Xander was killed. So your ship and his.”

He pulled his hand through his tangled braid and hissed when his singed fingers stung. Keith stared at his forearm, which had turned a sickly lavender in response to the injury. “I...We...We need to improve our communication with the settlements. Can’t keep getting blindsided like this,” he growled.

“Kolivon is on it,” she said. “He contacted Tressle 5’s leader, and the new heads of the Inter-Quadrant Traders’ Alliance. That should cover this stretch of open space.”

Keith nodded at the window, examining the passing asteroids suspiciously. “It feels too late,” he said. “I didn’t think there were so many that were still loyal to Zarkon.”

“The election for a new leader of Galra is taking longer than we’d hoped,” Krolia said. “But this is a change that won’t come naturally.”

“I know it’s taking time,” Keith said, anger flaring. “And I know you don’t agree when I say there isn’t an _easy, obvious_ solution.”

Krolia stood and set a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Even if you took the Counsel up on their offer, it would still not have been simple. Just different kinds of conflicts.”

Keith knew she was right, but didn’t know how to reply, so he tugged his shirt back on over his head, smearing the burn cream, and limped out of the medbay.

Kolivon seemed to be expecting him, hanging back on the bridge. “Keith,” he greeted. “You’re not injured?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied impulsively. “What’s the plan?”

Kolivon nodded. “The same. We have more reason to now than ever to report back to your Earth Garrison. We plan to enlist forces to help secure the trade routes. Hopefully it is quiet work for them, after our encounters. We have no reason to suspect they are rebuilding. These are simply remnants of a fallen dynasty. They will expire.”

“Not before taking us down with them,” Keith said. “How are there so many left?”

“Our priorities have been reconstruction, not decimation,” Kolivon replied. “Though now we may have to switch our goals. We were perhaps too naïve. With the state of the Galran Empire...” Kolivon’s eyes shifted to Keith knowingly, but the younger man refused to meet his gaze.

Keith’s headache returned. “Still on route for Earth then?”

“Yes. Double time.”

His temples crushed inwards. “Great.”

He dismissed himself stiffly, stumbled back to his bunk, and crawled into bed. His mind was racing, incoherently, between what he needed to do in the moment, and what he would do as Earth loomed closer. His headache pounded worse and worse. No Galran he spoke to ever heard of a concussion, but Keith speculated he had one. Their heads were, literally, too thick.

He smirked and laughed breathlessly into his pillow. Shiro would love the irony in that.

* * *

_-SHIRO-_

With Curtis settled into bed, falling asleep faster than anything, Shiro decided to make sure Pidge had also made it back home. Or more specifically, _not_ made it to her lab.

He wasn’t sure what Hunk had meant, but he knew her better than Shiro did, so if he was concerned, it was worth Shiro’s time. He found himself still trying, _wanting_ , to keep his team safe. He should have reached out to Lance more.

He made a plan to visit the farm that weekend, and walked downstairs to the lab. It was quiet at the Garrison, though guards were making their rounds diligently, and another dozen were keeping watch from the surveillance room, so he was very much not alone.

Shiro often felt alone now.

It sated a little bit after seeing everyone at dinner, but always crept back up. His friends were a fresh bandage over a wound that never stopped bleeding. 

Shiro pushed his hand into his face. The alcohol left his mind swimming, thoughts pouring out of their usual nooks in the back of his mind. But there was an order to which boxes fell open first, and thankfully the elevator doors opened before his mind could dig too deep.

Most of the lights were off, but the main holo-screen was illuminated, filling the rest of the room with an eerie taupe glow like radiation.

Pidge was leaned heavily over the console, using it to support her like she was wounded in her side. “I’m close,” she said.

Shiro joined her. “Close to what?”

“Answers,” she replied, lifting her gaze to the screen, and pulsing numbers and waveforms. “But I can’t solve the last piece.” She went to tap the lines, but her fingers fell through them uselessly.

“You’re probably also close to passing out,” Shiro said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I-... _can’t_ leave this unfinished anymore,” she stammered, suddenly angry. “But these god-damn numbers won’t _cooperate_. It doesn’t make sense.”

Shiro briefly examined them as well, but they were far too out of his scope. All he could derive was that the signal, if it was that, was very, very far away.

“They’re getting shy on me. Like photons,” Pidge continued, her voice slurring together now. Then, lowly, “Do you want me to find you or not?” 

Shiro frowned. “What?”

Pidge gave a heaving sigh, then slumped forward, and Shiro steadied her. She mumbled a little more, at someone rather than the numbers, but Shiro couldn’t understand her anymore. “I’m taking you home, okay?”

He closed the screen down, leaving them in a dark room only illuminated by the console lights and projects that needed power all through the night. Shiro felt his neck prickle as they left, as if he’d left something important of his behind. But the doors to the elevator shut and they began moving.

* * *

He had to bend over to give Pidge his shoulder to lean on. She’d gone through a growth spurt of two inches while in space, but her genetics put a firm stop to any more additions to her height. Her family lived near Shiro and Curtis, in a large condo in the barracks, and he was back to his apartment with Curtis in no time.

Shiro made some green tea and perched himself by the windowsill to look at the stars. They glimmered warmly, and Shiro felt that pull again, to be among them.

The boxes were tidied up and back on their shelves in his head, and he was sober now enough to keep their lids shut. But oddly, the specific thoughts he’d been trying to keep at bay rose to the surface, more painlessly than he’d expected.

“You’d scoff at me,” Shiro said, turning his gaze back to his cup of tea as the matcha swirled around. He saw comets in the dusty green. More firmly, he added, “You’d tell me to shut up and go to bed. That I’m being stupid.” He glanced at the cracked door to the bedroom.

Shiro took a sip and welcomed the bitterness.

Too much powder. He’d have trouble falling asleep.

But he was nervous about the dreams to come, especially since his thoughts had wandered back to space, and the dreams he’d been having. And, as was inevitable when looking at the stars or a sunset, back to _Keith_. 

He frowned, wanting to speak again, but was stalled as if Keith was suddenly close enough to join in. His questions felt stupid, so they remained in his head where Keith couldn’t hear them. He missed their conversations so much that it ached. But they hadn’t had a real talk in years, long before Keith left for his work with the Galra.

Shiro knew something was going on- Pidge’s research, all of their dreams. He was desperate to know if Keith was a part of it. Did he feel something happening too? Did he have theories?

Or, was it all in Shiro’s head? He had survivor’s guilt, as did most of the others. Was he sharing his guilt through his connection with the rest of the Paladins?

Shiro swallowed hard. _No_. He’d been trying to convince himself he wasn’t crazy for so long, that he’d started believing he really was. But he wasn’t. He was a little bit drunk. And a sad kind of lonely that made him miss people more than usual.

_‘I’m so sorry, Shiro. Goodbye.’_

He pushed his face into his palm and exhaled through the spaces between his fingers. He drained the last of his tea into the sink.

_Shut up and go to bed._


	7. Chapter 7

Shiro was back at his desk early the next morning, and he felt like he’d been away for days. Someone had replaced his clean desk and empty computer with new tasks. They never ended, but then again Shiro wasn’t sure what he’d do with respite.

He almost didn’t notice the coffee sitting on his desk, holding a paper note in place. The coffee was from the cafeteria, but they had started serving better drinks recently. He took off the lid and smiled into the milky foam. Not coffee, but matcha. 

Shiro tapped his fingers on his desk, staring at the pastel card. He knew it was from Curtis by the excess parchment from their wedding thank you cards, but Shiro felt a weight in his gut that held him back from opening it.

Instead of he card, the door opened, simultaneous with a knock. “General Shirogane, sir, excuse the interruption,” his secretary said.

Shiro set his tea down, grateful for the distraction. “Yes, what is it?”

“Sir, we are receiving a transmission from The Blade of Marmora. I’ve already called the Captains.”

“What is the nature of the transmission?” he asked, though his voice came from behind a haze, watching himself speak. It had been months since any transmission. Since they had gone too far, too deep, for anything to reach each other. 

Finally the secretary shook her head. “It was not classified as urgent. Kolivon agreed to wait for us to gather.”

Shiro nodded, releasing the tight breath he’d been holding in his lungs. Nothing bad. What then, if they were close enough to relay a live transmission? Were they passing by, or coming through?

He took the lead and his secretary hurried to keep pace.

They reached the massive, semi-circular room with a screen already displaying the alien group, once resistance, now reconstruction. Shiro made his way to the front to join General Williams, one of three remaining Generals who still held a higher rank than Shiro’s.

Though Shiro was still regarded as the Garrison’s so-called alien expert, and handled most alien interactions, The Blade was regarded more like an allied army, rather than a new race that was seeking integration into the Planetary Coalition. Though Shiro was requested at every meeting with the Blade, they would no doubtly continue without him.

She nodded as Shiro joined her, but he couldn’t help himself not to stare at the transmission. Not to _search_ it. But it didn’t take long.

Standing slightly behind Kolivon, but front and center enough to exude importance. Keith was easily the shortest person there but Shiro was startled at how much his appearance seemed to favor his Galra half, though it could have been a trick of the lighting or transmission quality.

“Kolivon, and Blades,” General Williams started. “We see that you are nearing our Solar System. We are pleased to see you here safely.”

No matter how many glances Shiro stole to Keith, the younger man seemed to be intent on avoiding his eyes. Keith stared forward, nearly unblinkingly, so, _so_ focused. Did he even notice Shiro staring?

Shiro tried to will himself to look away, to focus as well, when he noticed the fresh burns on Keith’s cheek. And towards his forehead, a sinking bruise. In fact, Krolia had a thick bandage around her arm too.

The sinking feeling returned to Shiro’s gut like a bad meal. They had been in a fight.

“Then it is our unfortunate news to say our travels have not been safe,” Kolivon said. “It has come to our attention that the factions of Zarkon followers are more numerous than previously estimated. We have broken through two blockades just on the return route to Earth. Though, we do not expect to encounter more as Garrison patrols increase around your planets.”

General Williams crossed her arms behind her back. Shiro could see her picking at a thumbnail. “We will send an escort regardless to ensure no more...surprises. When you arrive we shall discuss the next course of action in person.”

Kolivon blinked once, slowly, and Shiro could hear his fangs grinding. “Very well, General. We estimate our arrival in six Earth rotations.”

“We will be expecting you. Until next transmission, safe return.”

And the transmission was gone. He held on to the image of Keith like the burning image of a comet. Gone in a second, but hard to forget. 

Shiro felt a flurry of emotions, all competing for priority, until he swelled his lungs with a deep breath and grasped for focus. He was coming home. Well, did Keith even consider this planet his home? He almost never had, with parents that vanished from his life too early on. No friends, or ties, until Voltron.

Which...had immediately taken them off their planet, where Keith preferred to remain.

Shiro followed the Generals and Captains to a corner of the room, and discussed half-heartedly. The Captains would prepare the landing site and accommodations. The resupply would be estimated, then finalized after arrival. It was all very standard protocol. Galra even ate the same rations.

Shiro could have done nothing, and their arrival would still be well handled. All he had to do was be there. Back in his office, he felt just as useless. He meandered, starting tasks, quitting them, unable to regain his focus. The emails he did reply to were terse.

Shiro’s heart raced so much that he had to leave the cold matcha alone, uneager to have more caffeine. What he craved then was one of Romelle’s martinis.

He couldn’t get Keith out of his head- the freshest image with lavender-toned skin and a slightly bruised face. He imagined their reunion, scenario after scenario, plotting the best way to greet him again. But ultimately, all the planning felt useless, because he suspected that Keith wouldn’t even want to talk to him.

He hadn’t for years. Was there any way to change that?

He sighed hard, “Damn it...” Heart and mind still racing, he abandoned his office and went for a run around the grounds.

Sunny, he decided against a jacket, but the cold wind followed him mercilessly. He tried to outrun it, maintaining a sprint for nearly a mile before hunching over his knees to catch his breath. His lungs burned, but they were stronger than they had ever been. His disease was still gone with no signs of resurfacing, as the muscles around his lungs worked flawlessly to help him recover.

He supposed the Galra just deleted that mutation when they cloned him. Muscle wasting wasn’t beneficial for their brainwashed soldiers...

His heart began to race again, and Shiro resumed at a jog. He focused on the steady pound of his feet on the dried mud and gravel, vibrating up his legs. The swing of his organic arm, and ignored the magnetic pull of the metal one.

He would never forget Allura’s thoughtfulness in restoring his arm, especially to such a profound state. But wars over, he longed for a simpler modification that wouldn’t turn so many heads, or in fact none at all. 

There seemed to be a trend of his refusing earnest gifts and affection recently.

_Could you get any greedier...?_

He finally reached the garage again, his skin flushed bright red, and saluted at the young cadets that sprung to their feet when he passed them. A short shower later, avoiding the reflection of himself in the mirrors, and it was back to the office.

* * *

“We have our team of bridgemates and communication specialists,” Captain Averson began, allowing time for those present to examine the crew on their datapads. “We just need to decide on the Captain and pilots.”

Shiro smiled at Pidge’s photo under Lead Communication Specialist. Keith would be happy to see her.

“Perhaps Captain Shirogane?” Averson continued.

It took just a moment for Shiro to remember that he was _General_ Shirogane, and it was his husband that was _Captain_.

“He could take the IGF-Atlas. It would be good to let that ship breathe. Take it for a few test maneuvers.”

Shiro took a few deep breaths to dull the ache in his chestThere was no real reason to oppose Curtis meeting the Blade, even if the idea seemed bad to Shiro. It would only be for a few days, and the ships wouldn’t even been mingling crewmates. 

“General Shirogane...?” Averson said, apparently repeating herself.

Shiro cleared his throat. “I think this crew is well devised, and Captain Shirogane would be a good fit for leading the Atlas. He’s been a pilot since its inception.”

Averson nodded. “It’s decided then. We’ll have them in the air tomorrow evening.”

After discussing the logistics with the Captains, mostly formalities, he dismissed himself and snuck out the back door.

He couldn’t be there to escort Keith home, but he could make sure it was ready for him. There was at least one thing he could do.

* * *

‘You know, we can store it in the Garrison,’ Shiro offered. ‘Private bay and all.’

Keith shrugged, then crossed his arms. ‘I don’t know. With all the modifications I’ve made, I’m worried some techie will want to take a look.’ There was a short, dejected kind of pause. ‘Thanks, though.’

Shiro nodded, stiffly. ‘Well, you have time to decide what to do with it, no rush.’

Keith didn’t reply, and instead gestured to the fading daylight in the direction of the Garrison. ‘We should get back.’ 

Back to _what_? Shiro was enjoying being away from his fluid responsibilities, back in open air. He was enjoying himself for the first time in a while, even though their task was small.

Shiro tapped his own bike. ‘You know, we have time for a ride, if you want to.’

Keith hung his head and laughed. ‘A ride? You mean a _race_.’

‘Yeah! It’s been...well, the last time we raced we were piloting Lions.’ The idea sent Shiro’s heart thrumming, and he felt oddly warm despite the evening chill. ‘We haven’t been to our lookout in years.’

Keith lifted his head, the smile subdued, then gone. ‘ _Our_?’ Keith echoed back.

Shiro nearly bit his tongue. ‘I-...well, we’re the only ones who go there, I think.’ He felt himself flush. _How stupid was he?_ Before he could ramble too much, his phone pinged with a message.

Keith went quiet as Shiro read it. ‘Curtis?’ he finally asked.

The way he said his fiancée’s name always stung. Not because it sounded rude, but because Keith was trying _so_ hard to sound uninterested and polite.

‘Yeah. Wedding stuff, you know,’ Shiro concluded, putting his phone back away. Feeling stupid. ‘So...we...should be getting back.’

The glow of sunset reflected in Keith’s eyes, multiplying the warmth. But below that, the younger man’s eyes seemed cold. When he closed them, Shiro felt the wall fall between them.

‘Yeah, Shiro. Let’s go.’

* * *

Once a week, Shiro made the melancholy pilgrimage out to the desert, following his tracks from the previous week. He was the only one who took that road anymore, so he was in constant battle with the storms and wind to maintain that path and prevent it from washing away.

About half an hour later, driving slowly to not pop tires in new ditches, he saw the small run-down cabin. Blanched from the sun, but built up sturdy enough to last against the dust storms and rain. It was stubborn, just like it’s owner. 

Shiro never went inside the house, and instead parked beside the shed.

He unlocked it with his spare key, the one Keith had given him nearly a decade ago, and verified that the red hoverbike was still safe under the tarp, and made sure the engine still warmed up when he turned it on. Two years off the roads, it would surely be jumpy, but Shiro could at least make sure the hover-rings weren’t cracking.

He set his organic hand over the engine as it sprung to life and warmed his palm. Shiro let it run for a bit, letting the familiar rumble and smell of ozone take him over, overwhelm his senses. It was a relief of sorts, to be quietly numbed. Memories should have come rushing back, but instead he remained firmly locked in that moment, lungs full of fumes.

When his hand began to burn from the heat, he knew it meant the moment was over.

Shiro secured the tarp again and locked the doors behind it, then pondered the small hill a few dozen yards from the cabin. He trekked up it to catch the last rays of sunset, a deep crimson glow lining the canyon walls in the distance, then endless azure. It was too cold to be on the hoverbike, but he wished he’d taken anyways it so he could have driven to the overlook instead. His jeep couldn’t handle the roads, especially now, littered with ship debris and new craters from the war. 

The idea of traversing a new path to that lookout seemed fun. He’d taken that route so many times it was easy, instinctual, to navigate. New and unexpected obstacles would be fun to race through. Alone, though, he had no desire.

Shiro massaged his neck. Maybe he really _was_ getting old.

He lifted his gaze examined the stars, noting the busy satellites and airplanes coasting by far overhead. There was one of Pidge’s- monitoring the Garrison’s outposts all over the planet and communicating back to the Space Stations. 

And far beyond that, a dark cruiser that held his best friend. They hadn’t spoken personally in all that time, though Shiro had seen him on the communication screens enough times to know he’d been safe at least.

But _safe_ was a painfully low bar.

He wondered what planets the younger man had seen. What fights he’d survived. Compared to what they had once been, before their separate work and personal lives drove a wedge between them, they shared so much. Before...that last Spring, when Curtis proposed. Keith’s change in demeanor had been so obvious, like he wasn’t even trying to hide is distain.

_And you_ , he thought to himself, _what did you do about it?_

Shiro snapped his eyes open and stared at the sunset, willing it to fade into black. He held his breath until the colors blinked out. They never lasted long anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience and support! Sorry this one took longer. Graduate school started up again so it may take a bit longer between chapters.   
> I promise Keith and Shiro will meet in person again soon! <3


	8. Chapter 8

_-Shiro-_

Shiro drove back to the Garrison in the dark, and returned to his office, dark hallways reilluminating at his arrival. It had taken him longer than he meant to get back, or maybe he’d spent too much time watching the sun fade. But Shiro had left some things unfinished and didn’t like the thought of coming back to an even messier office in the morning. As he tidied up, he saw the coffee cup again.

And the note still trapped underneath. 

_‘Hey Shiro,_

_I’m sorry I was an ass last night. I didn’t mean to get that drunk (but somehow I’m not even hungover, alien alcohol!)_

_Let me make it up to you with dinner. Just you and me. See you after work._

_Love, Curtis’_

_~_

Shiro quietly opened the door to their apartment, but there had been no lights bleeding through the window, so he wasn’t surprised to find it dark. A sweet, milky flavor lingered in the air from Curtis’ baking, and a few things were boxed in tupperware on the counter from a dinner long gone cold. It was uncharacteristically clean, despite the heavy amount of cooking that must have taken place hours ago.

With each detail, Shiro’s guilt multiplied.

Keeping the lights off, Shiro softly opened the bedroom door, and again found it oddly clean. The bed was made, and empty, except for another note. He stared at it a long time, willing it to go away, before finally taking it in his hands, heart heavy. 

_‘Shiro,_

_Maybe notes aren’t the best way to get ahold of you (ironically here I go again!)._

_I was asked to Captain the Atlas to escort The Blade back to Earth. (They hit some trouble but everyone on board is fine) We leave tomorrow, but I decided to head up to meet the crew tonight and make sure things are ready._

_Maybe a little bit of space will be good for us? I know you’ve been struggling recently, and I wish I could make you feel better. I’m still here for you. And I love you- so much. Don’t forget that._

_-Curtis’_

~

Shiro could see for miles.

That was the point of the Garrison’s location, ontop of the world in the middle of nowhere. Though the desert seemed flat, they were at nearly nine thousand feet elevation. Did wonders for physical training. It had almost killed Shiro more than once.

Shiro could see the Earth begin to curve at the horizon, where the sun was slowly rising to warm the sleepy canyons and wake the new cadets. The crimson shadows from the stony pillars bled for miles, creating their own landscape of false mountain ranges that Shiro followed with his lazy stare.

His boots echoed calmly as he took steps across the Atlas’ hull, coming closer and closer to the rounded dropoff, before he finally sat on the precipice. Shiro settled in so he could watch a few ships wake up and liftoff from the Colony, but he wasn’t really seeing them. He wasn’t sure when he would head back down, because the moment felt too perfect to leave.

He twisted the new ring on his finger, all his senses absorbed by the sensation. It was a thick, white gold band, so luminescent it almost glowed. It caught any amount of light and flickered like a beacon, but remained cold to the touch.

When he actually noticed how happy he was, how _content_ , he realized it was a dream. The lingering ecstasy of saying ‘Yes’ would fade in a matter of months, starting when he left that spot on the Atlas where Curtis had asked him.

‘Aren’t you going to go down?’

Shiro lingered. ‘...Not yet.’ He set one hand on the cold hull, grounding himself further. Stalling. 

‘Why not? Surely you can’t stay here forever.’

Shiro looked out at the sunrise, as it came up slowly, slowed by his observation. ‘This is when I start to really mess things up.’

Her dress billowed when she sat beside him. ‘You were so happy though. You _wanted_ to say yes.’

‘I did- I _was_ ,’ he agreed, spinning the engagement ring again. ‘But...I...I lose it. And it means I lose someone else too.’ He’d meant to not say the last part out loud, but since it was a dream he couldn’t help himself. She could probably hear his thoughts too. Shiro felt horribly exposed, afraid, then exhausted with relief that someone finally knew. 

Her face shadowed. ‘Oh, Shiro...’

‘I didn’t know that’s what would happen.’ His gaze turned downward, at the Garrison, as cadets and pilots began to start their days. He shook his head. ‘This should be a good thing. Why isn’t it? How did I mess it up so fast?’

She drew her knees into her chest. ‘Well...You had been through quite the life experience already. Maybe multiple lives, really. So finding this person that brings you joy, you certainly want to keep him. You understood how quickly things can change.’

Shiro saw painful flashes of Adam’s stoic face, followed by his name engraved on dark granite, suddenly brought back with vivid clarity. And all the while, another face in the background, watching, waiting...gone.

‘Apparently not enough,’ he muttered back, then realized how selfish he sounded. Adam haunted his dreams a lot still, but it was so strange to have this many memories blurring together all at once. Shiro had a feeling it was because of the reoccurring woman joining his dreams.

But still, Allura and Lance only confessed and acted upon their mutual feelings for a short amount of time before everything fell apart and they lost her. Of course she understood.

‘I’m sorry,’ he added.

She lifted her otherworldy gaze to the sunset, though none of it reflected in her eyes, or on her skin, as if she wasn’t even really there. ‘Perhaps...those we assume we’ve lost, aren’t so far off after all. If we give them the chance.’ She smiled, more radiant than the sun, and he felt a calm love that wasn’t his own. ‘Wouldn’t it be amazing, Lance?’

* * *

_-Lance-_

Lance exploded from his sheets, and threw open his window, heart pounding. Her name hung on his lips, but he didn’t dare speak it. 

He wrapped his fist in his shirt, as if he could keep his heart from bursting from his ribs. The sky was quiet and dull and lonely as it had been for years.

The hitching in his chest grew, an uncontrollable spasm, and finally he let the pain have him.

Her name fell from his mouth harder than the tears from his eyes. “Allura,” Finally admitting her name opened the crevice in his chest. “I’m so sorry. It should never have been you.” He hung over the windowsill, eyes burning, pain spreading and fading through his body like tides and his heart was the moon.

His dreams had been bad, but never so vividly _her_ , in over a year. Once the initial grief settled, the nightmares had sated.

But now these dreams. They just wouldn’t let him rest. 

He wouldn’t call them nightmares, because she was so perfect in them. So very _with him_. Her voice was light, and her face animated as if she were really there. Her voice felt fresh, raw, from the dream, and it echoed relentlessly through his mind.

No matter how badly it ached, he let it replay, listening intently each time because no matter how badly it hurt, it was still her.

* * *

_-Keith-_

When Kolivon and the Garrison had finalized their plans, the transmission to Earth blinked out, and Keith’s face scrunched up into a glare. He'd been holding his stoicism for too long, and now that Shiro was finally out of his sight, his face gave in to what his head was grappling with. He shot the look to the floor when his mother raised an eyebrow.

“Did you see how he was staring?” Keith finally said.

Krolia sighed, “That boy _misses_ you.”

Keith prickled at her quick reply, and stormed off. It was a dull kind of rage he felt. Like it was trying to find the right spot to live. Wedged between his ribs, or burning behind his eyes, it migrated.

He shut himself in his room and found the mirror, reluctantly. His skin was almost back to its normal hue, but even in the dim starlight he saw the lavender. The burns and bruises made it look even darker. Were his eyes still amber? He pulled back a lid and verified they were, though not nearly as glaring as the other Galra’s.

Shiro had never seen him like this before.

He’d gotten close once, when Keith followed him to that horrifying asteroid laboratory and fought him. When Keith had been fighting for both of their lives. Though... _.that_ Shiro may not remember.

He wondered what _this_ Shiro was thinking.

Keith groaned and pushed his face into his hands. Why did he still _care_ what Shiro was thinking?

His mother’s words lingered. Maybe it was the way she had called Shiro a boy, that made him seem more pitiful. Keith had to let it go before they landed back on Earth. He had to brace himself for their meeting. Somehow. 

He sighed, like the recycled air was suddenly heavy.

~

The bandages came off a few hours later, leaving only slightly marred skin, like those patches were just a little dry. He rejoined the crew on the bridge, though he did not have an official seat on deck since he wasn’t one of the ship’s pilots. So he hung back until Kolivon returned, with a few other older Blades.

To Keith, but loud enough to share with the crew, Kolivon said, “They will be sending their ship _Atlas_ to escort us the rest of the way. It should join us by late-cycle tomorrow.”

“The _Atlas_?” Keith repeated, his jaw already tightening up again. That was Shiro’s ship.

“You can find details of their crew on the database now, if you so wish,” Kolivon said.

Keith pulled his up, and it projected off of his arm to a small screen in front of himself. He scrolled through the new information slowly, crippled by the Galran language it had defaulted to. He never understood why they spoke a language he’d always been able to comprehend, long before he even knew of his Galra heritage, but their written language was still something entirely foreign.

He mildly regretted disabling his translation function, once done in aspirations to better his language proficiency, but he wasn’t about to give up because he felt impatient. He could translate, it would just take more than a few minutes. 

Keith made his way to their dining area and brewed himself a strong, black coffee and found a corner seat by the window. He’d made sure their ship had left Earth with an ample supply of coffee, even if it was the bitter dehydrated mix. Some still liked to joke it was Keith’s biggest contribution as a crewmate.

He took a heavy swallow, avoiding the taste to hurry and get the caffeine, and opened up the file again.

The _IGF-Atlas_ would arrive in roughly sixteen hours, then it would slow down and keep pace with the much more sluggish Galran cruiser for about four days. There would be supplies and ammunition, if needed.

He skipped the rest and went to the crew. The human names were spelled with a simplified Galran alphabet, used for Earth words and names exclusively. It was easy for him to read ‘Shirogane’.

Keith leaned away and set his gaze on the stars.

_God damn it._

What we he going to do? He hadn’t planned for Shiro to come and _meet_ him. It was too soon. The Atlas moved so fast- it was probably already on its way...Then again, the crews would likely be confined to their own ships. But it still would be too obvious that Keith was avoiding him.

When he finally turned back to the screen, his coffee had gone cold beside the black window.

He kept reading, and his heart fell even further. _Captain_ Shirogane. Not General.

...They were sending _Shiro’s husband_ to escort them home. Curtis.

How visceral.

Keith looked back out the window and wished he could have torn it open and thrown himself into the void. He imagined it vividly, his hands prying away the transparent steel, so he could wriggle his way off that god-forsaken ship and back to somewhere quiet, and safe.

He didn’t read any further, but finished his coffee. He didn’t want to sleep that night.

~

Much too soon, only twelve or so hours later, Keith stood beside the other leaders of the Blade in a neat semi-circle formation as they waited for the initial transmission. The _Atlas_ arrived even sooner than expected, so they had hastily roused from their bunks to address their new companion.

Keith held his hands behind his back and kept one pinch of skin firmly between his fingernails.

The screen bloomed to life, so bright that Keith flinched. The crew of the _Atlas_ came into focus, and Keith gripped his skin harder until the sharp pain drew his focus. He kept the pressure on as Curtis greeted them and explained their plan- so concisely that Keith was almost grateful, but so friendly that Keith hated it. But even as Keith fought to steady his gaze just above Curtis’ shoulder, the bright wedding band demanded his gaze. Like some magical gravity, Keith found himself staring at it before he knew what was happening.

He dug his nails into his wrist and blinked hard. When he looked up, his eyes were back on the Captain’s shoulder, for only a brief moment more, and the transmission subsided.

Krolia’s hand snapped around Keith’s. “Let go,” she said.

Keith’s hands shook as he separated them, and jerked his arm away from his mother. A few drops of blood smattered on the floor, but neither of them looked. Krolia had more to say, the chiding mother in her angered, but her expression melted into a soft concern that was worse than anything she could have said.

“I’ll be in the training room,” Keith said, and took off without another word.

~

Keith remained to be the smallest person on their ship, and maybe the entire Blade, but his skills in hand-to-hand combat had yet to be contested.

“It’s not about size,” Keith said, to the younger Galran who he’d just hurdled over his shoulder. “If opponents are trying to simply overpower you, it’s easy to use that inertia against them.”

His sparring partner tapped his hand on the floor in thought. “Well what about you, who’s so much smaller than me?” 

“You just have to be smarter,” Keith said with a short smirk. “But I don’t see that happening.”

A few others chuffed from the sidelines, but the ones nursing bruises remained quiet.

“Come on, again,” Keith said, stepping back into place. The Galran lifted himself back up and dropped into a low stance as well, trying to match Keith’s. He was more cautious this time, testing Keith’s counters before he finally commited to a real attack. It was a short jab, with such long arms that Keith did have to dodge, but instead of sliding to the side and into the Galra’s awaiting kick, Keith ducked the other way and easily twisted behind his larger opponent. He swept the Galran off his feet, and he thudded loudly to the floor.

“Better. But don’t compromise your balance with high kicks like that. I could have ducked right under it.”

The Galran groaned angrily, spitting a curse that Keith was pleased to realize he could understand. “Don’t beat yourself up. I was in your shoes once.”

“So you just found larger humans to beat you up until you figured it out?” He asked.

Keith tightened the gloves on his hands. “You could say that.”

The doors to the sparring gym opened, and another young Galran ran inside. “Keith! One of the humans from the _Atlas_ is headed our way.”

Keith frowned, and pushed down the spike of anxiety. “What? Who?”

The Galran opened his hands like he was measuring something. “The- uh, the small one?”

Keith’s frown dug deeper. He followed the Galran to the bridge, where a few other surrounded the surveillance screen, muttering in disbelief. 

“The lead communication officer?” “Can she even fly?”

Keith pushed himself to the front, and verified the pilot of the small transporter coming their way. He smiled, and felt a warm rush of nostalgia that was not at all painful. “ _Yes_ , she can fly. That’s the Green Paladin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and Thank you!!
> 
> Sorry for the delay, I chip away at this story as my rest breaks between classes (Physical Therapy school woo!), and I assure you I am motivated to finish it. 
> 
> Thank you all for your sweet comments and support <3 
> 
> I'm sorry if this chapter bounced around a bit, I hope you didn't get whiplash! I've never had to juggle so many character, especially when they start to share dreams and we get into funky sci-fi land.   
> As always, I am here and living for you thoughts!
> 
> Love, Kibs


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